


A Different Sort of Bond Altogether

by Nevcolleil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Castiel (Supernatural), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:48:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28401942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: As it turns out... Being bound by demon deal to the King of Hell is pretty much like being chained to a comet too.A snarky, smirking, devious, casually terrifying (and handsy) comet.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 24





	A Different Sort of Bond Altogether

It’s a _bad_ idea. Sam screwing a demon bad. Sam using demon blood as go juice bad. Dean’s gonna catch all kinds of hell for this if Sam finds out about it, after all the fussing Dean’s done about Sam’s less than brilliant choices.

Not to mention, Castiel could turn on Dean and kill him... Or cheat Dean out of his soul.

Which- Okay, yeah, is probably the biggest reason not to do it. But catching hell from Sam would still suck pretty bad.

“You didn’t bring your pet angel with you this time,” Castiel says as Dean steps into his “study”. Pretentious frickin’ demon.

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

Then, of course, there’s _that_ reason. Crowley is gonna be pissed about this. And - worse - disappointed. Dean hates disappointing him.

Castiel chuckles. Dean can see him now, in the dim glow of firelight coming from the fireplace. If there was cheesy music playing in the background this would be a great opening for a porno.

Dean rubs his hands against the front of his jeans. That was _not_ a good thought to have right now.

Castiel steps a little further out of the shadows and towards Dean, smirking.

“What’s wrong, Dean… nervous?”

Nah… Dean’s not nervous. About making a deal with the super powerful demon - the most powerful of all demons now that Lilith is dead.

Dean’s not nervous about Castiel’s fancy suits or his pretty face. Or about the fact that Castiel chose a vessel so pretty, that even remembering that it’s just a vessel - that Castiel is the ugly thing inside of the pretty guy whose body is stepping way up in Dean’s personal space - isn’t enough to stop Dean’s heart from thumping whenever Castiel is close.

“Whatever. Let’s do this.”

Maybe if they get this over quickly, Dean doesn’t have to remember anything. Doesn’t have to think, doesn’t have to reconsider. He can just do what needs to be done and go…

Castiel’s chuckles really bother Dean. They’re all low and throaty and make Dean think of sex, which is just _wrong_. Dean frowns.

“That’s very stoic of you, Dean, but I’m afraid that’s not the way I work.”

Castiel has this way of cocking his head to the side that’s very strange and bird-like. It’s the same thing as the way he rarely blinks, how long and how hard he just looks at things - it’s a statement. Castiel isn’t human and he doesn’t care to pretend that he is. It’s creepy. And not because it takes a lot of mojo to back up an attitude so cocky without bringing every angel, demon, and hunter within range to your door. It’s creepy because _it doesn’t matter_.

Castiel isn’t human and that should repulse Dean the way most non-human things do (with the occasional exception, like with Crowley.)

But the last word for what Dean is as Castiel moves his mouth directly next to Dean’s ear is repulsed.

Castiel’s breath against the shell of Dean’s ear raises the hairs on the back of his neck. In the good way.

And he has the sinking feeling that Castiel knows it, damnit.

“You don’t have to enjoy yourself, but I do insist that my… business associates not treat my presence like something unpleasant. You did come to me, after all.”

Dean’s pulse revs. “What are you talking about?”

Castiel’s teeth are bright in the near darkness. No matter how pretty, Dean will always find it unsettling to see a demon grin.

“Come on, Dean. Don’t play ignorant. You know how I seal my deals.”

Dean doesn’t jump. He doesn’t run out of the room. It’s a very near thing, though.

“I’m not selling my soul,” he says firmly. He thought he’d made that clear. He’s been worried that Castiel will try to manuever it out of him somehow anyway but-

“A deal’s a deal, Dean. Whatever’s being bartered. I see no reason to change my methods just because you’re offering me your services instead of your soul.”

Dean… should have expected this, honestly. Castiel is always making all kinds of… comments to him. About him. He tells himself it’s just to throw him off, get under his skin. But Castiel is a demon.

Dean swallows. “O- Okay.” He holds his arms out in the universal gesture of bring it on - a sentiment much more confident than Dean actually feels.

But Castiel just chuckles again. “Like I said…” He walks away from Dean, towards the couch sitting at the very edge of the fireplace’s glow. He sits down and stretches his arms out across the back, crosses an ankle over one knee. “I prefer that our exchange be pleasant. And, quite frankly, you humans are pathetic when you’re frightened.”

“Nervous” or not, Dean can’t just let that one go. He takes a seat on the couch. And just to show how not frightened he is, he sits close enough to Castiel that Castiel’s hand, resting on the back of the couch, and his shoulder touch.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he says. “But I’m not making this deal so some pervy demon can get his rocks off by coping a f-”

Dean doesn’t hear Castiel move. He doesn’t feel the couch shift. One moment the two of them are sitting as they are, and the next Dean is being pressed into the couch arm, Castiel’s body bearing down on him with a weight greater than you’d expect, looking at him. His grip is hard on Dean’s jaw and Dean knows instinctively not to pick this particular battle. He holds very still.

Castiel’s gaze stills Dean’s lungs. The thing inside the pretty man Dean just popped off to is more apparent than ever, and Castiel’s eyes haven’t even gone black.

“You’re making this deal because you _need_ me, Dean. Because you want your adopted daddy to live to find a way out of that wheelchair. Because you don’t want Lucifer to ride Sam like a ten dollar whore all the way to the end of the world. You need me… because you know you’ll fail without me, and I am helping you because _I_ need _you_ not to fuck everything up.”

For a moment, Dean thinks even the flames in the fireplace have frozen.

Then Castiel’s grip lessens. And Dean breathes again.

The grim set of Castiel’s face snaps instantly back into something casual and deceptively non-threatening. His ever-present smirk returns. “And let’s not pretend, Dean. If I wanted to… “get my rocks off”… I’d hardly have to make your deal to get your assistance.”

Dean’s mouth opens on a denial.

And Castiel quickly covers it with his own.

Dean’s kissed a crossroads demon before. He knows to expect a momentary sizzle - like static shock to his lips - but what he feels as Castiel kisses him is different. An electric current more powerful, more painful but also somehow incomparably good.

Dean hears a sound. He’ll be mortified when he realizes it’s himself, moaning deep down in his throat. He also hears Castiel make a sound in response, a sound not entirely human but unmistakably the sound of a “guy” who is very turned on.

Castiel’s tongue is doing inhumanly erotic things inside of Dean’s mouth, so Dean can’t really focus on any other stimulus.

Possibly? Dean’s ruined his chances of denying anything by the time Castiel pulls back, face appropriately wicked in the firelight.

“Well… that should do it. Unless you’d like to add a postscript to the contract with something a little more… binding.”

Dean will remember to be embarrassed by the way Castiel laughs as Dean scurries out from under him later.


End file.
